I swear I could eat like 3 jars a week. This increase is due to my new “Meat Only On Saturday” Diet. Yep, I gave up bacon until brunch. That was the saddest break up ever. No pork, beef, chicken or any of the sort until Saturday. I let myself slide with fish twice a week but that’s it.
So here I am on the floor with a spoon, jar of peanut butter, and a book. Sounds like a fairly safe combination until your friend asks you why the book she borrowed from you has all these brown smudges on the odd pages. And it’s just the odd pages, mind you. I told her that, “
Sh*t Peanut Butter happens, ya know”
I’m kinda snobby with my PB too. In all sorts of ways. Like, bruh, don’t give me no super crunchy ish. And I ‘m not a sucker for the “organic” label on er’thang but best believe ima be checking for it on my peanut butter so you can take that oily separated generic stuff back where you found it. And never ever buy that jelly/peanut butter mixed stuff. Like why? Who does that? Let’s cut right to the chase. I like my peanut butter like I like my whiskey, straight no chaser, lady so hold the jelly please. No, like really, I actually want you to hold it while I go get some local jam or preserves cause I dont understand this jelly business. I thought Jelly was the stuff Bey and neem used to sing about, “I dont think you ready for this jelly.” Hell naw, I aint ready and you shouldnt be either.
Welp, rant is done. Purge is over. Jar demolished. And smudges errrrr’where!